If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. The sea was no longer rolling brass; it was bluer than anything he had ever seen. Why should you wish to forget it? Unless it is that you did not enjoy it. But when she was thinking it over in her room that evening vague and baffling doubts came drifting across this conviction. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground.
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